


make it so, or, i'll let the flowers choke me

by joeri



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Depression, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Poetic, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeri/pseuds/joeri
Summary: momota died. once.he thinks maybe a second time wouldn't be so bad if it were saihara killing him.





	make it so, or, i'll let the flowers choke me

**Author's Note:**

> i'm halfway done with the next chapter for my other fic but. was having an emotion and wanted to fix up this thing that i honestly, wrote for venting. i didn't expect for it to see the light of day but i wanted to make it less. rambly and stupid. and post it. sorry if this sort of writing is bad or not yr thing.
> 
> this is just a self-indulgent mess but. hurt/comfort fic for kaito i guess. it just, helped me a lot with my own feelings regarding mental illness. i use hanahaki to explore whether being loved can instantly cure your depression or not. the answer is, it cant. and thats ok.

Sometimes his lymph nodes get achy and he starts to think maybe they’re turning into buds. Soon, carnations and daffodils will be sprouting up about his neck and throat, he thinks, and all down his spine. This never happens but he’s never sure how this progresses. Simply letting anyone know about this will kill him quicker than any roots could. Before they could tangle themselves around the skin of his heart and give a slight squeeze, he’d die sooner to the prospect of admitting he’s in love…

with someone who doesn’t love him back.

Who could die from that? Who could die from loving someone so much that it kills them?

Getting it removed will only rub in the embarrassment. His love will know instantly. The moment he wakes up and sees his face and no longer squints like he’s staring directly into the sun, no longer smiles like he’s staring directly into his sun, it will have been too late.

But dying? Dying’s not so bad. He’s thought about dying a lot.

Kaito Momota doesn’t know why but he’s thought about dying a lot more than he cares to admit. When he envisions his future, it’s never too far off. He gets to space… and then what?

Nothing exists beyond that goal. It’s a barren empty field, and maybe it’s supposed to be. Maybe he’s set himself this dream up that he knows he may never reach simply because it gives him something to constantly work towards. Once he’s accomplished it, what is left for him?

He won’t admit it, because admitting it feels like he’s acknowledging the lines in his face at seventeen- the man beyond the curtain, the ace up the sleeve. The truth is, he knows magic tricks have math behind them and sleight of hand. He knows so many of the things he loves and believes in are lies, but they’re happy ones.

A kid in his chemistry class joked one day, _Hey Momota, you know the American moon landing was faked right?_

Kaito laughed. It wouldn’t… surprise him.

It wasn’t until a flower bloomed in his throat that he realized his dream might become a reality, a sick one. _What good’s this body for if it’ll fall apart over love?_

Love, he never paid attention to. Love, cousin to the pin-up of the girl he thinks he’s supposed to be attracted to on his bedroom wall. Because he has to be. Because he doesn’t know how to be anything else.

And flowers. He’s always loved plants. Never ones with petals but a good warnecki in the corner of his room. Plants with petals were so finicky, needed sun, needed so much care and attention, and for what? Pretty leaves? Flowers were fragile and he was not.

Bold words coming from the man being slowly choked to death by them.

But he was not fragile.

Said the man who took his best friend by the hand after his crush’s suicide and slept with him all night long, whispering into their interlocked hands that it’s okay to be weak, it’s okay to crumble, it’s okay to fall apart, _I’ll catch you, I won’t let you down._

Kaito fixes his mouth into a dissatisfied line. Calling her his crush is doing such a disservice to her. Kaede Akamatsu was… bigger than all of them combined- everyone in their homeroom class. She was going to teach him how to play the piano. She was going to play at Harumaki’s orphanage. She got up every day and preached a sermon of love and peace, and about never giving up. It inspired him. Inspired him to possibly put down his mask of lies and join the rest of the human race with his head out of the clouds. Maybe he’d truly believe in all of it.

But you know, the saddest people are sometimes the loudest, brightest- the stars that burn out the fastest. He wished he could've helped her. Wished she could've helped him.

No one knew how she’d been feeling. No one saw the signs. Kaito visited his friend every day for a month as he sat in his unwashed bed, recalling the moment he went next door to find her hanging, like a fish on a hook.

Dangerous thoughts come around.

Kaito can't cry, not because of his pride but because it just won't come out. Some nights he wishes it would. Kaede deserved more than anyone to have someone cry for her. Shuichi does more than enough in his stead.

More than anything in the world, Kaito lives in fear of him finding out- both about his crush and his… he wouldn't call it depression. Shuichi Saihara depends on him for so much. In that regard, there is in truth no room for him to have these feelings. All Kaito can do is be what he’s meant to be.

Feeling it isn't easy but hiding it is the hardest part.

Some people cough. It comes up in short bursts, like pulling a confetti popper or like the other side of the paper shredder. It’s messy but manageable. Some people wheeze and it won’t come out. It restricts their lungs and the petals are heavy. They’re thick and sufferers wake with their throat completely clogged. They learn quickly how to make their throat bleed.

Kaito vomits.

He vomits because he swallows. He vomits because when he coughs he swallows it all back down until it’s broiling in his stomach and he’s throwing up rose water and perfume. He vomits because he can’t let anyone know.

On his knees in the bathroom, he lets it curl up out of his belly and climb like bubbles desperate for the surface. On his knees he finds God, and always tells him this time he’ll have the strength. This time he’ll tell Shuichi Saihara. This time he’ll cure himself.

It isn’t until he learns what rejection brings that he steels himself for the challenge. Rejection just… accelerates it, huh? Rejection will kill him quick. Rejection will end it all. Every root will grow vines. Every vine will grow thorns. He’ll bleed slow in his sleep and taste forever in a mouthful of blood.

It doesn’t occur to him that this could turn out any other way, that there’s room for him in someone’s heart. It doesn’t cross his mind.

That’s why he’s ready when he sees Shuichi that morning and he throws a smile like paper airplane across a field- practiced, nervous, proud and confident... hoping he catches it.

Shuichi smiles back and they have lunch together. Kaito cracks open his bento and grins. Baa-chan prepared the loveliest tamagoyaki. She always felt eggs were key to a nutritious meal. He’s certain she could make it for any time of day. Inside the okazu are two little balls of rice, decorated to resemble aliens. Oblivious to how silly this is, how childish this is, Kaito gleams. His friend makes a gentle sort of laugh and sits back down with his cup of instant noodles he just yanked out of the microwave.

It’s like nothing’s even wrong.

Everything is as it should be, except when Kaito jumps up midway to run to the bathroom. Blame Shuichi’s smile for being too bright, sending warmth and light to his chest that the flowers photosynthesize. Shuichi follows after but Kaito locks the door. And Kaito doesn't know a petal escapes to the floor, small, damp, and cherry blossom. And it’s visible from outside the stall. And Shuichi Saihara is a detective.

Escaping to the courtyard to get some fresh air, Kaito smiles. He talks about how great it is to get some good outdoors. Says men are passionate creatures, tempered in the harsh wilderness and domesticated by time. One day, he says, he’s going to find his _real_ self out there on Mars. Shuichi doesn't know how much of it he’s serious about and he nods in reply. Kaito says thoughtfully, it’s good to let your mind wander but not too far. It’s good to dream but always keep your dreams close to your chest. Nothing is impossible but men shouldn't get caught up in a fantasy. Not when the real world is out there and waiting.

He turns toward Shuichi and asks him what he would do if he had the choice between living in a fake world or living in the real one. Shuichi says he’s unsure. There's pros and cons to both, and Kaito won’t say why he asked.

Mulling it over, tasting acid and chewing on a stray petal in his mouth, he beckons.

_We’ve been through a lot, haven't we?_

It isn't like him to lower his volume, make Shuichi stand so close just to understand him. Kaito sits down at a group of benches overlooking the rest of the school. He’s sick to death of flowers but the wisterias hanging overhead have always comforted him, strangely.

Shuichi stares with baited breath. Kaito doesn't know this and wouldn't know why anyways. All he does is talk, about the times they've been through and about how Shuichi’s been for him what no one else can be. Shuichi takes his hand out of what must be pity. Were his hands shaking that badly? A vine licks at his throat with a thwap.

 _I know, with all of my heart,_ he says.

Kaito locks up and he laughs, like he’s got blood in his mouth that he’s afraid to let spill out. It’s spineless and mirthless. It’s astonishing he’s trying to pass it off as human when he swallows down pistils and says _you could never feel like this._

When he walks away, he gets halfway down the stairs before Shuichi’s tugging at his sleeve.

_Don't you want to live?_

Kaito’s face is worn, exhausted of the façade. Proof of hell and Shuichi holds him around the back.

_I saw the petal. You’re dying. You're dying and you didn't even tell me. If you had I would’ve let you know so much sooner._

The astronaut trainee wobbles.

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

He’s supposed to reject him. He's supposed to die. Since the day he was born he's felt like he's supposed to die. Like a message written in the stars in a language only two faced liars can understand he read, he's supposed to die.

Sounding less like the conviction Harumaki has and more like the shivering boy that he is, he asks if he wants to die.

Kaito responds, he’d be alright with it.

_You didn't even give me a chance to respond._

Kaito’s mouth doesn’t move.

_I love you._

The flowers rot in his chest. The roots go brittle in his chest. The pain emanating from his chest, leaves.

His out is gone and he lets go of a tear he didn't know he had in him.

Isn't this the happy ending? It must be. Kaito turns toward him and frowns, and says he isn't who Shuichi thinks he is. He lies about his dream. He lies about his smile. He lies about his feelings and he lies to hide all of this. He doesn't plan on making it to space ever. It’s a fool’s venture. 

Shuichi caves. He comes apart like paper mache in the rain- melts into a drippy mess.

_Why won't you ever share your feelings with me? Akamatsu-san didn't either._

Kaito regards him with a quivering frown.

 _I love you,_ Shuichi repeats, and repeats until Kaito screams it back at him

His heart is angry. So what? It cured his disease. It can't heal the emptiness he’s felt his whole life. It can't fix the hole he feels in his ribcage every time he looks up at the stars and thinks he should be up there. **Dead.**

Love can't cure that.

Taking his hand in his, Shuichi gets through to him somehow. Maybe it's the way he's trembling yet brimming with so much power. He says, _I can't fix that but we can get you help so you can._

In another life, Shuichi holds his hands while they're covered in blood. Shuichi weeps openly and grasps his face while it pales, turning blue to the touch. Shuichi lets go of him and sends him to die. He dies young as intended. He dies young with too many regrets. He dies young with so many lies. He dies young with a smile on his face.

In this one, Kaito’s hands shake and the smile in his face has been misplaced. He doesn't know how to be what he needs to be. Like a cracked boat or an airplane with a hole, he can't sail or soar as he's meant to, and he's told to live.

Is this okay?

Is it okay now to cry? Is it okay for someone else to come in? All the preaching he's done to Harumaki and Shuichi, can he do it now? 

Kaito’s voice quavers. He tells him _you don't know how it is._

He tells him _once you notice how empty I am, you'll realize._

There’s no hero. There’s no man on the moon.

Shuichi shakes his head.

It’s okay.

His embrace feels like being held by the sun on tiptoes.

_No matter why you're feeling this way, I won't leave. You can get through this. What was it that you always told me? The impossible is possible._

Kaito feels small. His head rests on Shuichi’s shoulder and he’s enveloped in his arms. He feels small, but maybe, it's okay to feel small. Speaking slow and steady, _all you have to do is make it so._

And he can't believe how good those dumb words of his sound when they're coming out of Shuichi’s mouth, or how silly and sentimental he gets at completing the quote.

He cracks a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> p much every single fic i write that is an AU is always lowkey a reincarnation fic of some kind. i love the idea that echos from the canon reverberate throughout every other life they have.


End file.
